Nightmares
by Henceforth I Shall Be Nameless
Summary: Post-RE4. The nightmares never really went away, Claire knows this all too well. But at least she's not alone. Oneshot.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil, it belongs to Capcom._

Nightmares

Claire's bullet found its mark and with a splatter the creature fell. But for every one of those things she shot down, more moved forward to replace them.

Shooting a few more rounds into the tireless mass, Claire turned her back on the creatures and dashed for a doorway in a nearby alley. Sweaty hands holstered her gun and fumbled for the door knob. She twisted it with as much strength as she could muster only to be met with a dull _thunk_. It was locked.

Desperation made her slam her weight against the door, but the solid frame wouldn't budge. Realizing that escaping that way was a lost cause, she quickly looked around for another exit. Panic began to set in as she realized the alley was a dead end. The only way out was the way she came in.

Bile rose in her throat as she saw the entrance of the alleyway crowded with shambling corpses. She drew her gun and retreated a few steps.

_Bang!_ Another monster dropped to the ground, a bright gory wound standing out against its pale dead flesh. "Urrrgh," it moaned, dragging its injured body towards her. Claire cursed and aimed at the damned thing's head. Click. She cursed a second time.

Searching frantically through her pockets she found...absolutely nothing. She was clean out of ammo, and the undead horde was advancing, slowly but surely. Claire took a few steps backwards only to find she had reached the end of the alley. Quickly, she scanned the alleyway in the hopes of finding something else to use as a weapon. Sure enough, she found a rusty old crowbar lying dejected against some nearby boxes. She lifted the makeshift weapon, it wasn't much, but then again she didn't have the time to be choosey right now.

Rotting fingers gripped Claire's ankles. With one swift movement and a sickening _squelch_, the crawling creature was stopped for good. There was no time for Claire to celebrate her small victory, the rest were almost upon her. Crowbar in hand she faced them, managing to take out a fair few before their sheer numbers overpowered her.

There was no longer any space to move or breathe or even think. The first creature latched onto her neck and began gnawing ravenously on her flesh and the others soon followed suit, biting any exposed skin they could find. The pain was overwhelming, and Claire tried to scream but her voice wouldn't cooperate. Claire Redfield was as good as dead...

With a jolt Claire woke up, her hands sweating and heart pumping; terrified out of her mind. It had been years since the incident at Raccoon City, but she was still plagued by the things she had experienced—the _things_ she had seen—there. She focused on her breathing in the hopes of clearing her mind, her nightmare kept replaying in her mind. How many times had they almost devoured her while she was fleeing the streets of Raccoon City, escaping the prison on Rockfort Island, or even while enduring the tragic accident at Harvardville?

With a shudder, she pulled herself out of bed and crept quietly down the hall. As carefully as she could, she opened the door of the guest room, but despite her best efforts it still creaked.

"Who's there?" a voice cut through the dark room. She swallowed nervously, her resolve wavering.

"It's just me, Leon. I-I..." she fumbled, trying to find the words that wouldn't make her sound pathetic. Claire prided herself in her independence, a trait she had needed growing up alone with no one but her big brother. Naturally, she hated asking for help, because it made her feel weak, and she hated feeling weak, period.

"It's alright, Claire," he assured her, sensing the fear and desperation he knew only too well. "Nightmares?" he guessed, flicking on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room in a soft warm glow.

She nodded wearily. "Raccoon City," she explained taking a couple of steps into the room, arms crossed over her chest defensively.

"I get the feeling you don't really want to talk about that, do you?" he asked gently.

She shook her head, smiling a little at how well he could read her. Steeling her nerves she spoke up, "To be honest Leon, I'm scared incidents like Raccoon will keep happening. I mean, as long as these viral weapons are still available on the black market, history is going to keep repeating itself. People are going to keep dying because of this and I'm scared that maybe next time, it won't be a nameless stranger's corpse. Maybe it'll be Chris or Jill...or maybe it'll be me." She closed her eyes and drew in a shaky breath. "I'm just scared, Leon," she admitted, her voice cracking a little.

Claire sat herself on the edge of the guest bed, her head in her hands. Leon moved to sit beside her, placing a reassuring hand on her back. "Hey, it's going to be alright," he soothed. He had come to this same realization long ago; it was the reason he had worked his way through the ranks as a government agent in the hopes that he might be able to make a difference someday.

She sighed and leaned against his shoulder. "I hope so," she mumbled, all traces of hysteria gone from her voice. The pair sat there in silence, taking comfort in each other's presence. She wouldn't say it aloud, but it felt nice to finally get that off of her chest.

And god, she had missed Leon. Fortunately for her, she had run into him at a coffee shop a few blocks from her apartment, finally somewhere normal. No monsters lurking around every corner, no scheming pharmaceutical companies waiting to unleash a new wave of bio-terror upon unsuspecting citizens; just a couple of friends catching up.

As it turned out, Leon was in town on government business, holed up in a hotel for a few weeks until he could return to D.C. Claire offered for Leon to stay with her if he ever got sick of the scenery at his hotel. Leon accepted her offer gratefully. It wasn't that the hotel was unsatisfactory—the government was willing to pay top dollar to ensure he had the best accommodations available—no, truth be told, he had missed Claire too.

Claire felt guilty for waking her houseguest and burdening him with her fears, but if anyone could understand that mind-numbing terror, it was Leon. "Um...Leon," she began shyly; unsure of whether or not it would be wise to continue. Unbidden, the decaying face of one of the creatures from her dream appeared in her mind. That settled it. "Can I stay in here tonight?" she asked quietly, a strange mixture of embarrassment and excitement bubbling in her stomach. "...With you?" she clarified, avoiding looking him in the eye. She missed the startled expression on his face that melted into a soft smile.

He was quiet for a moment, and Claire was almost certain that she had crossed a line by asking him this. But after the brief pause he finally replied, "Sure thing, Claire."

"Thanks, Leon," she said with a smile, and without another word slipped under the covers. Leon turned off the lamp and the room was plunged in darkness. He crawled under the blankets and made himself comfortable, careful not to disturb Claire, who—exhausted from her nightmare, and not to mention the late hour—was starting to nod off.

"Goodnight, Claire," he whispered to his sleepy redheaded friend.

"G'night," she mumbled drowsily, and in a move that surprised Leon, nestled against his chest. Tentatively, he laid a hand on her back. Hopefully, there would be no more nightmares for Claire Redfield tonight.

_A/N: And so ends my first attempt at a Resident Evil fic. Hopefully it wasn't too OOC...heh. If you've got the time, please leave a review and let me know how I did and how I can improve, and/or point out any spelling/grammatical errors I missed. Thanks for reading!_


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